Returning the Favour
by theglamourfades
Summary: Acts of kindness never go unrewarded, especially to those who show kindness the most of all.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea came to me while I was writing my Valentine's prompt fic, and also recalling the moment when Anna did Gwen the favour by keeping quiet about her interview: _"Did you cover for me?" "What do you think?"_ I really love Anna and Gwen's friendship, and wanted to do something kind of different with this, seeing Anna and John's relationship from another perspective. **

**I had intended for this to be a one-shot but a couple of other things came to me. It'll be more obviously Banna focused in time, don't worry :) **

**I don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters.**

* * *

Gwen stifled a yawn for the countless time that morning, quickly retrieving the edge of the bedcover that had fallen from her grasp. She would have to come to her senses quickly enough. Her sleep last night had been erratic; she thought she had heard footsteps and movements in the corridor during the early hours that roused her, and it had transpired at breakfast that one of the younger maids had had an unsettling dream. It had been over a year and yet the unfortunate tale of Mr Kemal Pamuk still resonated around the house; Daisy had been troubled lately too. When the knock that signalled the dawning of another day rapped on the door, she sat up to notice that the bed next to hers was empty, the covers having neatly been drawn back and rearranged, Anna's nightgown laying folded on top. She must have been called upon to soothe Lily, the girl who experienced the nightmare. Even if it wasn't within her duties as head housemaid, Anna still would have been the first to offer a comforting shoulder and calming word, her easy nature a balm to everyone. Gwen recalled when she herself had found it difficult to settle at Downton; Anna was the friend that she had needed so much, helping her to adjust to life at the big house. Eight years on, and they remained the closest of confidants within the quarters.

A low grumble from her stomach broke the silence in the room, and Gwen was at once embarrassed and reminded of how quite hungry she was, having had to skip most of breakfast. She stole a longing look at Lady Sybil's biscuit jar, still full to the top.

"Excuse me," she said as a reflex. There wasn't a reply, and she glanced up from adjusting the covers, the pull from the other side having lessened considerably.

It was always easier to get through a challenging morning when she chatted with Anna as they went, often sharing amusing anecdotes that would both make them laugh and forget about the monotony of their work. This morning Anna was very quiet, barely having said many words at all as they had gone from each of the Crawley girls' rooms. Her expression was set, but she didn't seem too downcast as Gwen looked at her. The fog that she was accustomed to each morning would have dissipated by now; she was right as rain once she'd had two cups of tea over breakfast, alongside some conversation from a certain other member of the staff. Gwen had seen as she gulped down her own cup of tea that Anna and Mr Bates had sat marginally closer in their seats next to one another this morning, and Anna had been engrossed in every unheard word he had been saying to her. She had even been smiling then, before the bells had rung and interrupted the brief morning's peace.

There was a frown marking Anna's brow now, ducking out of sight as she bowed her head to tuck the sheets tightly. Perhaps she had been occupied with concerned thoughts of Lily, who was likely to be let go soon enough, or it might have been something Lady Mary had said – Anna was the only one of the servants that she confided in, and sometimes the troubles of another world could weigh her down, a little unfairly Gwen thought, but not that Anna could very well say otherwise.

"Penny for them?" she offered kindly to her friend, a sincere smile lighting her eyes. Thinking of Anna feeling troubled for some reason troubled her too.

Anna smiled back, giving a small shrug of her shoulders, seeming a little surprised that her mood had been noticed.

"It's nothing," she was quick to brush off, smoothing her hands over the covers on the bed. "I need to go and get some cotton and supplies to fix a dress of Lady Mary's that she wants to wear for a dinner. I thought I was organised, but I'm clearly losing my touch. Not to mention my mind."

"I'm sure she won't mind, her wardrobe must be fit to bursting." Gwen did her best to reassure Anna, who still looked fairly perturbed. She didn't encounter her that much, but she imagined that Lady Mary would not take kindly to a suggestion that differed from her own. But if anyone could persuade her, it would be Anna. "If you're really desperate, you could ask Miss O'Brien if she has some spare?"

Anna grimaced at that. "Lady Mary's fashion choices are not worth getting my head bitten off for. Not after the last time I so much as enquired about a spare button to fit Lady Sybil's blouse."

Gwen chuckled, being witness to that encounter, and the deadly stare that Mr Bates had fixed the sour lady's maid with when she had snapped at Anna.

"You'll find a way," she noted cheerily, scooting quickly around the side of the bed. Anna looked at her puzzledly, and then lifted the lid from the biscuit jar when she realised Gwen's intentions. Gwen let out a hasty 'thank you' before she gobbled two of the sugar coated biscuits.

The matter was clearly not resolved; if anything, it had worsened in her mind as Anna exhaled a sigh. Before Gwen could enquire, she was forthcoming with the truth of the matter, replacing the glass lid with a heavy clink.

"Mr Bates is going to Thirsk this week, to get some things for his Lordship's trip to London. He mentioned that perhaps, if I had some time, I would care to join him for the afternoon."

Gwen could feel that her mouth was hanging ajar. The idea she had was rather bold, and Mr Bates was nothing but a perfect gentleman – especially to Anna – but she had to wonder if this might have meant something. To Anna, it was clearly significant enough to tell a fib initially.

"I so wanted to tell him that I would, but my next half day isn't until the week after next, and by that time he'll already be away in London with his Lordship." Anna's gaze lowered as she wondered temporarily whether to take a seat at the edge of the newly made-up bed. She refrained. "It doesn't matter much, there will be other times I suppose. But it would be nice, given that spring has arrived at last…it's such a lovely place to be when everything is budding."

And she was sure that the flowers starting on the trees weren't all that would be enchanting to Anna. Gwen recognised the same soft look blooming in her friend's eyes that was always apparent whenever she thought of Mr Bates, the same smile starting to overtake her features. There had been a mutual fondness between them since his arrival, that much had been clear to note. But recently that fondness had seemed to grow, and it also appeared that something had changed about Anna, in something as simple as the way she carried herself from day to day. Perhaps the others hadn't noticed it, but Gwen had. The way that when she didn't quite realise she was doing it, Anna would smile at herself in the small mirror, carefully adjusting her hair beneath her cap and straightening her apron before going downstairs in the morning. It was something that Gwen didn't recognise within herself, but in Anna it was unmistakable, and it made her happy to see.

Anna turned back into the room and away from her, her smile a little more wistful before she forced it away from her face. Bundling up the sheets that had been changed in her arms, she gave Gwen another glance to say that she was alright, really. It was nothing that couldn't wait.

Gwen had been meaning to return the favour Anna had done her by covering for her while she set out on what was to be her unsuccessful interview some months ago now. She had the idea that she would maybe buy her a box of chocolates on her next trip into Ripon, but the gesture seemed too small and not nearly equal to the kindness Anna was always quick enough to show. It was obvious to her that this would be ideal.

"Tell Mr Bates yes at luncheon," she said with a firmness that wouldn't be misconstrued between friends. "I'll think of something, and mention it to Mrs Hughes. Of all people, she wouldn't begrudge you the time."

Anna's countenance brightened immediately, though Gwen could tell she was trying hard not to be too enthusiastic. She nodded her head to tell her that she really did have reason to be, at least once she had things sorted with Mrs Hughes.

"Gwen, that's too much…I couldn't ask it of you." She fiddled with the sheets still held in her hands, the picture of humility.

"Of course you can," Gwen replied in the next second, "after all you have done for me in these years, not to mention for everyone else too, an afternoon out is the least that can be offered."

Anna smiled, shaking her head to disregard the truth gently.

"Not that you would, but you can't breathe a word. I can just imagine what the dastardly duo would be like if they got wind."

Gwen couldn't hold back a chuckle at that. "Cross my heart," she made the action upon her green day dress, "you can rely on me. Only if you won't argue against what I've said."

The look in her eyes said that Anna wouldn't relent, as well as the smile that settled upon her face. As they carried out the rest of their work, she giggled at its unrelenting presence.

"You'll have to tell me something terrible, else they'll all wonder what's got into me, grinning like a fool."

Gwen laughed, wondering that whatever she could come up with wouldn't be enough to stifle Anna's joy.

The rest of the morning went by very quickly indeed.

* * *

The clock was ticking away, and Gwen was compelled to keep staring at it from the corner of her eye, heat beginning to rise up through her from her feet. It was getting perilously closer to the time that all of the family would require dressing for dinner and as yet there was no sign of either Anna or Mr Bates. She started to get feverish with anxiety, awful imaginings entering her head of some terrible accident from the way back from Thirsk. Or perhaps the hours had just run away without them noticing, the sunshine and spring air carrying them along happily. It was not like either of them to not be mindful but being together, away from the house, was bound to have some kind of effect and their minds would not likely be the primary thing affected.

She felt the ever watchful gaze of Mrs Hughes on her, and gave a polite smile as she rose from her seat, hoping that she didn't appear too flustered. A couple of days ago she had told the housekeeper that Anna had received word from her sister that she had been afflicted with a rather bad fever, and would need some things fetching as well as liking the company for a short while. As expected, Mrs Hughes acceded immediately, taking Anna aside and saying of course she could go, and she didn't know why she hadn't come to her directly. There had been no questioning whatsoever, given Anna's faultless reputation, although at this very moment Gwen didn't fully trust herself to let everything out if she was met with another of Mrs Hughes's gently enquiring looks. To that end, she hurried her steps along.

Seconds after she had gone out into the hallway, she made out the sound of Anna's heeled boots clicking rapidly against the hard floor, her jog slowing to a fast walk. Her fair skin had taken on a ruddier appearance, cheeks shining and flushed, and she was fixing her hat more securely upon her head when she stopped in front of Gwen, not too far outside the servants' hall.

"Where have you been?" Gwen couldn't refrain from enquiring, her tone more amused by Anna's demeanour than stern in any way. "You had me going sick with worry."

"The earlier bus went without us, only by seconds," Anna huffed, her breath still short, making her voice higher and wispy. "We couldn't very well run to catch up with it, so we had to wait for the next."

Through her fluster, a smile was playing at the corners of Anna's mouth, making her seem to glow within the dimness of the hallway. She evaded Gwen's gaze for a moment, fumbling with the handles of her purse as she smirked down at the floor, and Gwen's own heart started to thud with excitement for her friend.

In the next moment, Anna was out of her brief reverie and back to her senses.

"I'd better go and change," as she spoke, she was unfastening the buttons on her light jacket. "Mr Bates is waiting outside for me to go up first."

They had kept their voices low, but Mrs Hughes had been alerted to Anna's presence back in the house. She appeared at Gwen's shoulder, giving the younger maid a bit of a start when she spoke suddenly.

"Anna, I am glad to see you back." Her tone was soft, her smile genuine and laced with concern. "How is your sister doing?"

"Oh, yes." Gwen watched as Anna started to nod her head, shaking off her temporary hesitation and fixing Mrs Hughes with a clear-eyed gaze. "I mean, she's getting there, thank you Mrs Hughes. I think she was glad of a familiar face."

"You do know that you could have stayed longer if it was needed. Your duties don't only lie with this family, that's for sure."

Gwen and Anna shared a smile; the order of importance Mrs Hughes had was quite different from Mr Carson's, and for that they were grateful she was in charge of them.

"She assured me she'd be quite alright. But thank you all the same, Mrs Hughes, I appreciate it ever so much," Anna said brightly.

"It's no bother," the brusqueness of her Scottish brogue had been clipped back, replaced by warmth. "Now, we'd all be getting on. Time to put them first again."

Anna and Gwen nodded and smiled at the housekeeper before she turned to enter back into the hall. Gwen hung for a few moments at the doorway, and Anna caught her hand before she made to ascend the stairs to their quarters.

"Thank you," she uttered simply, her eyes conveying more of the depth of her gratitude as she looked at her friend intently.

Touched and feeling happy and accomplished, Gwen returned Anna's gratitude with a sincere smile. There was really no need for her to say it, not with all the favours and secrets that had passed between them over the years, both small and more significant. Anna really was like the sister she never had, and she imagined that there couldn't have been a better one on offer. Still, she could see in her gaze that this had been especially important to Anna, so she accepted it with the same grace as Anna had shown.

Moments later, Mr Bates's arrival was denoted by the steady tap of his cane making its way along the hallway. Gwen caught his eye as he passed by the door of the hall and offered him a small smile, which was promptly matched. He wasn't always the most social of people, but he was always perfectly amiable, unless the situation called for something else. His eyes seemed livelier as he looked at her, and she had to wonder whether Anna had told him of the part she had had to play in today's proceedings.

Gwen noticed that, in the next moment, Mr Bates's lips had curved upward in the type of smile she had certainly never seen him wearing before, his eyes directed to the top of the stairs. She had not needed to look to know that Anna was standing up there, casting a bright glance down towards him before she coasted away.

* * *

It had remained fine that evening; the sun had been streaming through into the hall much to the chagrin of Mr Carson who had to squint through dinner, his spot at the head of the table most directly affected by the beaming rays of light. Leaving the other maids chatting, Gwen decided that she would step outside to enjoy the remainder of sunshine before it set for the night. The first days of spring could be welcomed even in the relative confines of the house, and it would be nice to feel warmth on her face after months of biting chill that had made it sting sharply. She also figured that a spot of fresh air would be a good aid to helping her sleep more restfully.

She was about to wander in the direction that would bring her to the very edge of the grounds from the servants' side when she heard sounds coming from the other end of the courtyard. Hushed voices that complimented each other in their distinct tones, light laughter that was instantly recognisable as belonging to her roommate.

Gwen scuttled to shield herself against a post just a little away from the door, slightly further along to where Anna and Mr Bates were situated, his figure towering above hers. They looked entirely comfortable, both seeming more relaxed in their postures than they did when they had to sit rather stiffly inside. She realised that Anna and Mr Bates would often disappear from the hall after dinner on certain nights, not for very long each time. This must have been where they came to. She leant out by a mere inch and observed that the pair were now standing closer together, their shadows merging into one on the cobbled ground.

It wasn't too hard to hear snatches of their conversation. Anna was giggling at a greater rate, almost bent double with the way she was raucously laughing. Gwen could see that Mr Bates was looking ever so fondly at Anna, his lips pursed and face growing red as he tried not to burst into hysterics himself.

"I didn't know you could be so terrible, Mr Bates," she was chiding, "Teasing me over the way I run, indeed."

Mr Bates let out a chortle that echoed. "I wasn't teasing you. I found it very endearing."

Anna's neck was craned upwards, hands placed lightly on her hips. "That's just a way of not sounding cruel. I think we're at the point where we can be honest with each other, no matter what the repercussions are."

His expression seemed to shadow at that, and Gwen saw that Anna reached her arm up towards his face. She was a little shocked at her friend's actions, even in the apparent privacy of the moment, and she wasn't sure whether she should have found it more surprising when Mr Bates circled Anna's hand in his before it could reach to touch his skin.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Anna made her apology measuredly, a hint of regret apparent in her voice. "I just forget sometimes. As silly as that sounds."

"You should never say sorry. I wish I could forget about all that has gone before me."

It was evident by her voice that Anna was smiling through a quickly cast sorrow. "I do, and yet I don't. Because it has made you who you are today. And I can never want to change that."

Mr Bates seemed somewhat admonished, as though he was going to say something to counter Anna's words, but he thought better of it and instead smiled at her with the same soft eyes he had used only seconds before.

"Today was wonderful," he uttered instead, low enough that Gwen was only just able to make it out.

"It truly was," Anna replied, shifting herself on her heels nearer still to Mr Bates, his frame now open to her. "I'm so glad we were granted the luck of it, before you go away." She paused, making the silence swallowing and Gwen feeling extremely guilty for the fact she had not yet departed, leaving their moment sacred to them. A sigh sounded out on the air. "I hardly need to say it, but I'll miss you. Dreadfully."

"You should try not to," Mr Bates answered gently.

Anna's shoulders slumped, and she seemed smaller in the light that was falling away rapidly. Gwen's heart sank for her companion and she wanted to give her a reassuring hug. It was a relief and a delight when she saw that Mr Bates had closed his arms delicately around Anna's figure, wrapping her up in an embrace that did not speak of lovers' passion but went past the realm of friendship in its tender quality. Anna's hands hugged around Mr Bates as she raised herself up on her tiptoes, and he gathered her up closer, his head rested against her and eyes scrunched tightly shut like he wasn't willing to let the moment or Anna go.

Gwen was all at odds. She wouldn't divulge how Anna and Mr Bates's relationship had furthered; that much was true before she had seen the sight she had just witnessed. She hoped for the best for them against what she feared could be the worst, and that they wouldn't fall prey to the harsher side of Thomas and Miss O'Brien's plotting. Whatever they might have said, she knew that this wasn't anything untoward or wrong. Her heart had never been warmed so much to see the two of them, sharing in such a special moment, oblivious to the world except for each other. God knows they all needed escape and solace, a remnant of joy in their otherwise monotonous lives, and Gwen was very pleased that Anna and Mr Bates had found more than that in one another, letting out their emotions at last.

The moment when their heads moved closer together was the moment when Gwen turned to go back inside, careful to be silent and not casting another look back into the hastening night.

* * *

"So, did I miss much while I was away today?"

Anna was sitting in front of the small mirror at the end of the room, her reflection looking back at Gwen as she sat at the end of her bed folding up her uniform. While she spoke she twirled strands of hair around her finger, the action appearing less than absentminded as Anna adjusted her head this way and that, watching the curls she had made remain for a few seconds before they tumbled out swiftly. She brushed back her long hair after a bit, practised fingers beginning to braid.

"Not really," Gwen replied, patting down her frill on top of the pile. "Mrs Patmore made the wrong sauce again just before dinner. And blamed it on Daisy."

"Poor thing. Still, they do say you take it out on the ones you love the most." Anna chuckled softly at the kitchen maid's misfortune, and then frowned, growing deeper in thought and concern. "It seems to be happening more often to just be a coincidence now. Do you think there might be something wrong?"

"Perhaps. Though Mrs Patmore's too proud to admit it."

Anna shook her head ruefully. "Pride does more harm than good most of the time."

Gwen simply nodded, feeling too tired to get into a long conversation. "Oh, and Mr Branson started quite a lively discussion about workers' rights. You should have seen Mr Carson's face, though he insisted he wasn't talking about being here. Most of us stayed out of it. Miss O'Brien said that Mr Branson could start a brawl in an empty room."

"She's a fine one to talk," Anna tutted, laying down her brush on the little table. "No, she'd just whisper and whistle and then sit back and watch as the other vultures tore each other to pieces."

The two shared a laugh, thinking of the lady's maid as one of the dark creatures. They both knew at times it was a little unfair, but she did bring a lot of it on herself.

Quickly the mood in the room shifted; Gwen caught Anna smiling again, her eyes couldn't be hidden from the clearest glaze of the pane of glass before her. She had no desire to pry but she'd also been dying to know just an inkling, the wondering catching her mind at frequent points throughout the day.

She broached the subject carefully, gazing down at the bobbled sheets beneath her hands. "How was your afternoon in Thirsk?"

The smile crossing Anna's lips grew wider, her gaze falling into her lap before she met the mirror again, and by turn her roommate's visage.

"It was very fine," she answered, her tone surprisingly calm but with concealed joy buried not too far beneath the surface. "It was a good change to be out."

"And to spend some time with Mr Bates," Gwen added to the unfinished sentence, not feeling that she was being too cheeky by the implication.

Anna took it in good grace, her head bobbing almost imperceptibly. "It's always nice to spend time with Mr Bates."

She giggled in the next few seconds, coming to recognise the dreamy haze that had been cast across her irises as well as the lilting note in her voice that she had adopted almost unthinkingly. With her hands tucked beneath her, Anna turned around to face Gwen, who was grinning hopefully, her own fancies caught with the prospect.

"We had our own tasks to see to, the time wasn't all our own," Anna seemed to be explaining herself, as though she had been confronted with Mrs Hughes instead of her trusted friend. "But there was a little while. We had a short stroll, and went to a teashop."

The pair of sparkling blue eyes lifted to the ceiling, as though the sun of the town was still shining overhead, bringing her back to hours previous.

"You needn't say any more," Gwen chimed in, quite satisfied now. "I'm glad you both had a lovely time of it."

Anna smiled graciously, meeting Gwen's eyes with a warm, wholesome gaze. She fiddled with her hands before stilling them in her lap, taking a breath in and then letting it go easily.

"It sounds strange, and sometimes I have to wonder at myself," Anna began slowly, growing in confidence as she went, "but when I'm with Mr Bates, even for just the shortest time, I feel like the whole world is different, in the best way possible." She stopped for a moment as a wide grin was splitting her expression. "It doesn't seem like it from the outside, but from inside I feel…well, I feel more like myself. Like the person I've always wanted to be though I've never really known it, not until now."

Gwen didn't say a word, just staring at Anna instead. She seemed so sure of herself, her words were full of conviction even if she expected that they might sound funny said aloud. Inwardly, Gwen sighed; she hoped that she could understand this strange but apparently wonderful feeling for herself, one day.

"I've never felt as though I'm trapped here, or been unhappy," Anna continued in the hush of their room and the night that had descended, "but I see that there's so much more to life now. And I'm not sure I can live without it, or at least the hope of it."

Gwen saw Anna's expression grow a little wistful in the candlelight, shadows passing and then being quickly chased away. Anna was never one to dwell on her troubles for long. She got up, crossing the short distance and settling into her own bed.

Staring up at the ceiling in the new darkness, Gwen smirked to herself as she considered. "You know, I'm quite certain that I owe you a few more favours from times gone by."

A short giggle followed from her side.

"I'm supposed to be setting an example!"

"You work hard enough. It's not fair that you should have no time to play."

There came a little snort of indignance, and then a sigh of assent. Gwen raised herself up on her side, but she wasn't able to find the look on Anna's face. Yet her hopeful tone was quite enough to be sure.

"We'll see."

* * *

Gwen traipsed down the stairs, her footsteps remaining light though her legs felt as though they weighed a ton. The morning's work had been gruelling and quite boring, and she was glad of having five minutes to herself to escape to her room and catch her breath. She still had a snatch of time before needing to move onto the next duty; now a cup of tea would be just the ticket to replenish her.

She heard a flutter of laughter before she turned into the hall and halted abruptly at the doorway to find Anna and Mr Bates sitting side by side, alone at the table. Both were working diligently, Mr Bates sweeping a brush over the arm of a jacket and Anna leaning over slightly in her chair, attempting to thread the new reel of cotton through the needle that was waiting to repair the tear in Lady Mary's dress.

"Oh, for god's sake," Anna muttered quietly, ready to give up.

At once, Mr Bates put down the brush, curving his hands towards where Anna's were fumbling on the table.

"Allow me," he said softly. His larger fingers collided with Anna's as he slowly took the reel from her grasp, and their eyes met for the first time in quite a while, smiles quickly forming and greeting one another after a few seconds suspended in time.

The other housemaid grinned to herself, her thirst beginning to dissipate as she turned on her heels without another thought. They deserved all the moments that were afforded to them, Anna and Mr Bates most of all, and she would do her best on her part to let them be special.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for the lovely and encouraging feedback on this story. I miss Gwen too, and loved seeing Rose Leslie talking so enthusiastically about keeping up with DA recently. Perhaps it's a sign...?**

**Another character this time, who probably gave A/B the best favour there was.**

* * *

Mary sighed as she let the book she was holding fall shut with a little puff of air, which perfectly punctuated the sound that emerged from her lips. Running a hand over the hardback cover once, and then back again the other way, she placed it firmly down onto the table at her side, feeling that the decisive action she had taken not to continue to read stood for something. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking, and she really should have learned to stop believing her wishes had any currency.

She had no inclination to even pretend to be occupied with the volume she had picked up. Yet as she stood, surveying the surroundings of her room, she was struck by the feeling, slightly delayed in its approach, that she possessed the proclivity for nothing. It did not seem to matter, as she had no real purpose; now, it seemed more than ever. Sybil was nursemaid for their mother and Doctor Clarkson's unofficial assistant, as well as the one who was threatening the shadow of scandal to cast upon the house, which persisted like fog in the distance though its looming had lessened, surpassed by a darker sky of clouds. Even Edith had discovered a spark of something of late, clinging onto the remnants of war tightly within her grasp, much like she used to do with the dolls that were hers and hers alone as a child, hoarding anything that was offered to her with what Mary had always perceived to be an unjustified jealousy.

How stinging it was that now she should be the jealous one, and of Edith of all people. Though she would never dare admit it to anyone but herself in moments such as these – and even that pained her greatly – she supposed she always had been. Her sister had no obligations, no burdens of name or blasted entail resting upon her shoulders. She loved Downton Abbey with all her heart – she had once believed more than she would be able to love any man that was thrown in her direction – but sometimes the lengths that she was expected to go to to ensure that it was protected seemed too much to ask. Her purpose in life from the day she was unfortunate enough to be born a girl had been defined as less than a player; merely a pawn who was to be passed around until a suitable – not even preferable - prospect could be secured. When she was younger, even as much as a couple of years ago now, she had made the resolve that no matter how her fate was decided she would never be truly conquered. She would at the very least retain some of her fight and fire, no matter how inappropriate it may be for the future Countess of Grantham. As the months passed and events occurred, spiralling more out of her control, she felt the flames dwindling within herself. As her gaze looked towards the window that framed the room she could not help but be consumed by the heavy set of the sky as it sagged over the house, cloaking it into further despair.

The last few days had been very peculiar, and that was to put it mildly. When one by one, they had begun to topple like playing pins at dinner, her instinct had at first been to dismiss any grave concern. When Lavinia had turned grey-faced and looked as though she may swoon when she stood, everything came into much clearer focus. The sensation struck her squarely in the chest; it could very well have been her who was chosen to be afflicted. Fate had decided to be kind to her for once, or so she had believed at the time. She had been filled with fright as her mother went through what seemed to be some way past the very worst, alarm radiating around the room, everything flashing wildly before her eyes. Yet it was in a quieter moment that they had all been taken by surprise.

Rather unfortunately as she stood frozen in the room, watching Lavinia succumb as Matthew bent desperately over her bedside, she was reminded of a remark her Granny had made not long after they had first encountered Miss Swire. Something about how unassuming and naïve she was. _How could Matthew be so enamoured with a girl like that? She would not know that a bird had landed on her shoulder until after it had pecked her away to nothing_. Mary had come to learn that that was far from the case, and as she saw Lavinia's eyelids shiver and heard her delicately rasping breaths, an acute sense of guilt settled itself low within her stomach. She had seen them swaying in the hall the other night, she had almost certainly witnessed them doing what they should not, if it were not for the surge within their hearts that refused to be banished. It was preposterous to believe such betrayal had caused this horrible twist of fate to occur, but still the thought plagued her, from long before the second that Lavinia breathed her last.

Half of her had hoped to have seen Matthew before he departed the day before, the other half wanted nothing more than to shut herself away within these walls for the rest of time. What on earth could she have said or done? Even with everything that had passed between them, especially in the footing they had found themselves in of late, the words seemed meaningless and hollow. She was not certain that she could have looked him in the eye without being possessed to do something she would deeply regret. Matthew had lost out on everything, so very unfairly, and she was left lucky once more, in a fashion. She had Sir Richard. The very thought of his name and face twisted her stomach and sent bile rising in her throat. Her fate, her punishment.

She had word a couple of days ago from Mrs Hughes that though a fair few servants had been affected, there were no casualties, and though they had been unable to work most were bearing up well. Carson had been the most serious case; though he was over the worst of it now he was still confined to bed, on Doctor Clarkson's orders – and the housekeeper's too, Mary was quite certain. She had went to see him just before everything had gone wrong, and although she had hoped to have been some comfort to the reliable butler it was the opposite that turned out to be true instead. His affection for her was enduring, and though she had been angry at his refusal to go to Haxby, she could not stay furious. Downton Abbey was his life, too. They shared that in common, and in truth she did not blame him at all. If only she could find some way of escaping the mess she had gotten herself in to. She had the idea that she might go to the servants' quarters again to seek his counsel – indeed, she was not required to do anything else right now – but she did not wish to disturb Carson if he was sleeping, though she imagined he would not dare do such a thing in the middle of the afternoon if he could help it. No, he needed all the peace he could get.

Instead, Mary's thoughts drifted to the other faithful member of their staff she held in such high regard. Despite all the grief and chaos that was weighing down around her, she couldn't help but curl her lips in a sure smile as she considered what was to pass, if indeed it hadn't already taken place.

She had found Anna turning down the bed the other night, apologising to her when she entered. It seemed as though her unexpected entrance was not all that had startled the maid. Mary became suddenly anxious for a moment or two, noticing that Anna appeared rather preoccupied and fidgety. Her countenance was not pale or washed-out; instead her cheeks were flushed with a rosy glow, the colour of her eyes taking on another hue in the dim light. Perhaps the illness affected different people in distinct ways. Her fears were soon allayed as Anna confided the truth behind the matter, of hers and Bates's plan to be wed. She was momentarily taken by surprise, though not unpleasantly. With all the bad that had unfolded so quickly, it was a blessing to hear some cheery news, and when Anna gave the reasoning she thought her very brave indeed. Anna's anxieties had not been so easily dispelled; Mary could see that her small hands were worrying away at her apron as she stood in front of her, waiting for what she imagined would be a pained denial. Mary had no intention of refusing, soon putting her maid out of her misery. She only had time enough to catch a restrained but true smile on Anna's face as Edith called to say that their mother's condition had deteriorated. Even as she hurried along to their parents' room, the image remained in her head to lift her heart.

In all the time she had worked and lived in the house, Mary liked to consider that she had come to know Anna quite well. There were not that many years between them and Anna was a wonderful confidant, loyal and discreet and completely understanding, even when she did not confess to being anywhere near understanding her own mind and self. She believed that she had a very good idea of the maid's temperament, her feelings if not her innermost thoughts. If there was one thing that she was certain of it was that unlike many of the other maids, whom she largely heard about rather than had any dealings with, Anna was not one for hopeless infatuations. Though she felt some sadness for the fact, knowing that Anna would make an excellent wife and mother – much better made for the purpose than she was certain she could ever be, though she really had little choice – it was also a relief that it was quite likely that Anna would never go that way. She had a fondness for her, and good maids were hard to come by. She certainly had no idea why her mother seemed to favour that frightful O'Brien so much.

And yet, when Bates had arrived, Anna had been rather taken with him. Mary still recalled how she had defended him against her own dismissive comments when he had first been appointed. Of course then she had little inkling of how things would turn out, and she suspected that neither had Anna. She had a feeling that perhaps it was something of a novelty; this older, experienced, battle-worn man turning up to shake the structure. In part, Mary supposed she could see the attraction, and she had imagined that it would be someone other than an empty-headed farmer or arrogant footman who would catch Anna's fancy if anyone did. Someone who possessed more grace, substance and intelligence, as Anna was far from being uninterested in the ways of the world. She had wondered whether it was very common for servants to form romantic relationships with one another, never really considering it before. There must have been flings and dalliances over the years that her parents had pretended not to know about, or that had otherwise gone undiscovered. Now, given what was common knowledge about her own sister and the chauffeur, she supposed that anything was possible. But whatever happened between Anna and Bates, it would not be entered into lightly. Both were sensible and upstanding, and she imagined – or at least she hoped – Bates would not be reckless with Anna's heart. She was almost hesitant to say it, but the feeling must have been true for the depth that she believed was apparent; the two must have loved each other.

They both knew of the fact when Matthew was away at war and Bates had left to accompany his wife back to London. As Anna readied her for bed one night, she had asked her, though there had been no need. Anna was in love with Bates; indeed, he was the love of her life, and she would be willing to have no other as second best. She would gladly spend the rest of her days alone and pining for the love she had lost than try to obtain even a shadow of happiness. In a way Mary could not fathom it, and yet she knew only too well. Though she did not envy Anna's anguish, she did envy her ability to choose what she would do for herself. Not long after, Mary had worried about Anna's apparent desire to work herself into the ground in Bates's absence. She had replied that she felt quite mad but supposed it was understandable, really; love was a kind of madness, probably the worst that existed when it wasn't going your way. Once more, she could identify to a degree.

She was happy when Bates returned, pleased that she could make something work to her favour in these doomed circumstances in helping to track the valet down. She liked the man, and found that she was in debt to his dignified act of disappearance; after all, it was to keep her reputation secure that he stayed true to his word and caused Anna such despair. Now her maid was joyful again and it elevated Mary's mood in turn. The trials and tribulations did not stop, Bates's awful wife followed like a bad stench afterwards, and once more Mary did what she was able to chase her away, though it was not a great deal. It had been a shock to discover that she had been found dead, but not for a second did Mary believe that anything suspect had taken place. From what she knew about the woman she was deeply bitter, vindictive and had sharp wits about her; it would not be a stretch to find she had craftily concocted her own demise, to ensure that Bates and Anna were robbed of their serenity. Yet thankfully the good had persisted, in the same way that Anna had always battled on. She was not blind, she knew what may be awaiting. That had been the reason for the secret union, although Anna's euphoria regardless could not be denied. If only she could have learnt by her maid's example long ago and shown the same kind of conviction when Matthew had first asked her. Perhaps she would have been in a vastly different position now. And by that thought, Anna would have been too.

Mary shivered for a moment. It was true that she was far past the point of caring about her own nuptials, only able to muster the slightest enthusiasm when it was required. She knew she would never be truly happy with her life that would not even be second-best, but she was making her peace with that. If anyone deserved the truest happiness that could ever be afforded in the world for all the service and selflessness she had shown, it was Anna.

Spurred on with a sudden energy she made her way downstairs, not quite knowing what she was looking for. The afternoon was wearing on, and a clear glint of sunshine had broken through to flood the hall with warm light. With the knowledge she had, it appeared to be a sign. Once again her mourning faltered as she considered the couple, arm in arm perhaps as they walked from the registry office, pronounced as man and wife. Anna's smile brighter than the sun that shone in the sky.

She did not notice her sister descending the stairs until the light whine of her voice disrupted the silence.

"I can't find Anna," Edith announced as she stepped down, walking across to where Mary stood. "I want her to sort out my black for Monday."

Annoyance crept over Mary again. _Goodness, could she do nothing for herself, even in these circumstances?_ She was careful to stifle her smile when she replied, lest Edith think she had gone mad and give her more ammunition.

"I sent her into Ripon for something," she replied flatly. "I'm sorry."

Edith returned with a rather pointed look, wondering what could have possibly been wanted at such a time. _Still, whatever Mary wants, Mary gets_, she was no doubt thinking, and Mary could have laughed out loud at such an absurdity.

"It'll keep," she sighed, tossing her head lightly. Her voice lowered several octaves. "Mary…" she uttered before hesitating, looking about her conspiratorially. "Are you going to try again now?" Mary was utterly baffled. Edith's tone dropped lower still until it was a breath between the two of them. "Now that Matthew is…"

How could she possibly have that thought, at such a time and such a place? Contrary to her sister's beliefs, nothing was that simple. Not to mention it would have been insensitive and unthinkable to even contemplate the thought. She felt deeply ashamed that somewhere within her, she harboured a little hope.

"Try again for what?"

Before she could move to answer Edith, Mary flashed white to hear another sly voice. She took a sharp intake of breath to see Sir Richard appeared apparently from nowhere.

She soon pinned on a half-smile, nothing that would reveal anything of her tumultuous emotions.

"To get into last year's funeral kit. But to be honest, I doubt it would still fit."

She offered another polite stare and nod of her head before she turned on her heels, walking past Edith and back up the stairs, without looking back at her fiancé. Seething with anger at his presence, walking around as if he owned the place – her home and her birthright, if the law had made any sense – she could stay no longer.

Once she was at the top of the two flights and some way down the corridor, she felt herself calming. As the mist faded from her mind, she passed one of the guest rooms, hardly ever used, its door left open to signify that it needed attending to anyway. An idea quickly began to form in her mind, she had not known why she hadn't considered it sooner.

It emerged that she did have a purpose after all, and it pleased her that it was a far happier and selfless one than anyone may ever think.

* * *

Jane appeared to look very much like Mary felt, the two women locked in silence. While Mary sat at her dresser the maid stood starchly, her raven hair a complete contrast to her whitened features. Though she was polite enough not to lose eye contact with her superior, Mary discerned a peculiar and hardly disguised alarm in Jane's gaze, the same kind of fevered look that could be seen in the eyes of a small animal when its hunter had cornered it. She was accustomed to servants being rather intimidated by her presence, but this instance unsettled her particularly.

She did her best to move past the strange sensation, and make it easier for the both of them, though it was not really her job to do so. But then she remembered swiftly that it was not her own needs that were at stake here.

"Jane," she uttered the maid's name with a tight smile.

"M'lady," the maid replied quickly, performing a small, semi-curtsy apparently unconsciously and then looking embarrassed about the action, her gaze briefly departed before it was back in place.

Mary decided to pretend as though she had not noticed.

"I know we haven't really met properly, and I suppose there hasn't been need for us to. But still, it seems rather unfair."

"Not at all, m'lady," Jane responded promptly, no sign of pandering in her voice. Though of course she expected civility from the staff, it irritated Mary when they were overly deferent to her. It always smacked of insincerity, and of trying to worm their way upwards. In their first real contact, she was assured that Jane was proper in her amount of courteousness. "You have Anna for that, after all."

_Not for much longer_, came a sigh in her head.

"Actually, it was about Anna that I called you up."

Jane's whole being changed; though she remained standing straight, Mary noticed that she visibly relaxed the tension in her shoulders, and her face retained its colour. The swift alteration in the maid was rather odd, but she would not begin to try and fathom it.

"I trust that you are aware of the situation between Anna and Mr Bates," Mary began in a clipped tone, feeling faintly self-conscious suddenly. She wasn't quite sure how much servants shared in the way of these matters, though she knew very well that some were more interested in sniffing out gossip than others.

"That they are engaged, m'lady? Yes, it's of knowledge to us all," Jane replied with brightness in her tone, seeming to share a certain joy in the fact. "Though they don't make a show of it. They're both very private and respectful, and their duties always come first, I can assure you, m'lady."

"Quite," Mary answered, stifling a more mischievious notion in her mind. In that case, they deserved this all the more. She wasn't oblivious enough to believe that there had not been stolen moments between the pair in the veils of moonlight, or perhaps even in hidden corners within the house. Poor Anna must have been quite frantic with the torture of it all. "I'm assured you'll keep the secret. They departed to Ripon to be married this day. Certainly, by now, I should think it will all be official."

Jane prevented herself from clapping her hand to her mouth given the company she was in, though her fingers twitched by her side. "Oh, that is wonderful news, m'lady. It's been such a time for them, they'll be ever so happy. If I may say so, I am incredibly pleased for them too."

"As am I," Mary smiled widely, letting the reserve of her exterior drop in the moment, feeling once more that she was a girl engaging in play behind the back of her governess. "I'm certain that the day has been wonderful, but it doesn't seem fair that they should be denied the night."

Mary's cheeks began to blaze; to the knowledge of most, she remained unaware of these matters, and she was, really, when it came to the act being shared in the deepest love.

"I cannot do much, but we do have many rooms, and I would like to afford one to them."

"Very well, m'lady," Jane nodded her acquiescence, and made to turn to attend to the room at once. Before she could leave, Mary halted her by speaking once more.

"I don't wish for Anna to believe that I am prying in her personal affairs, so if you could come up with something," she added, somewhat haltingly. She did long to reveal the full truth to her maid herself, as some kind of repayment for everything she had done for her over the years, going beyond the call of duty in her faithfulness, but social constraints still existed for a reason, and Anna's privacy was to be respected as much as her own.

"Yes, m'lady," Jane answered the command. "You can say that it was my idea for a leaving present."

"That would be an excellent notion," Mary gave a smile to the maid, who returned it towards her. "I hate to sound like a tyrant at this time, but I expect they will be back shortly, and I wish it to be prepared to the best of appearance."

It could be no less than perfect, she had decided long before.

"Yes, m'lady. I will see to it straight away."

Mary couldn't be more pleased now that the wheels were fully in motion, being certain there could be no better treat for Anna.

* * *

"I'm terribly sorry, m'lady," Anna was full of apology as she closed the door behind her, hastening into the room to draw back the curtains. "We're still not back to our full complement downstairs, so all hands are needed."

"It's perfectly alright," Mary waved away any question of concern, smiling as Anna took the tray from her and then began to pull the covers back.

As she went about her work fluidly, Mary watched closely to see if she could discern any noticeable changes in her maid's appearance, anything that told of the hours before that had not long flew away. Anna remained the picture of professionalism as ever, though as she carefully laid out the black clothes upon the now smoothed bed from their place in the wardrobe, a tell-tale smile could be seen playing at the corners of her lips. Her hands danced upon the silky fabric of the blouse, and Mary followed their movements from the chair at her dresser, full of enchantment and wonder herself. As if both aware of the sombre mood that she was supposed to be in and that she was being closely watched, Anna composed herself immediately. When she stood behind Mary at the dresser, brush in hand, a smaller version of the blissful expression appeared naturally on her face, and Mary could not help but feel aglow inside.

"We're not at normal service ourselves, until Monday." Mary bristled, and she was certain that Anna could feel her strain, gliding the brush with a gentler stroke through her hair. "Not that such a thing could ever be called normal."

"No, m'lady," Anna responded quietly as she maintained her movements. "We're all very shocked about Miss Swire, still. She seemed like such a lovely person, and what with everything…" She paused for a moment, meeting Mary's eyes in the mirror and instantly sensing all that was too difficult to say, and as usual, leaving it where it longed to be. "I hope Mr Crawley knows that we all offer our condolences."

"I'm certain that he does," Mary managed a smile at Anna's tone, trying not to think too much about the awkward moment when she would have to come face to face with Matthew.

Anna worked in silence for a few minutes, adding the pins with practised ease, an air of calmness around her that placated Mary too.

"And her Ladyship is feeling better now?"

"Much better," Mary sighed with relief. "I don't think she will be up and about for the funeral, but we're all sending blessings that she has got through it."

"That's wonderful, m'lady. Miss O'Brien was very worried, she's barely rested since she knew her Ladyship was taken ill."

Mary pursed her lips, keeping her head still as Anna made her final adjustments. She decided enough time of observant mourning had passed and that a cheerier atmosphere should prevail. Plus, she could see no harm in asking, eager to know whether all had been to Anna's liking. Well, she was quite certain that some aspects had.

"I trust that Bates liked the surprise when he saw it."

Bates was an appreciative man and no doubt would have been in gratitude for the luxury of the room, but she had to wonder whether he would be able to accurately give the colour of the curtains or describe the pattern on the walls if he had been interrogated. It wouldn't have been difficult to imagine that every faculty he possessed was focused intently elsewhere, upon the only other who occupied the room that night.

Anna's hands fiddled needlessly with one of the pins that held back a well-secured curl.

"Yes, he did." Her voice was light, and only a little reserved. "He means to say thank you, as I do again."

"You needn't thank me. It was Jane's idea, after all."

Her maid fixed her with a knowing look through the pane of the mirror, and Mary smiled, her shoulders shrugging backwards.

"I should know that nothing gets past you," she remarked with a small laugh, standing to allow Anna to begin the task of dressing her for the day. "I am just glad that it adequately fulfilled its purpose."

With the nightgown in her hands, Anna coloured a shade of deepening pink. Mary smirked while Anna lifted the clothes from where they lay, picking small bits of fluff from the blouse's shoulders, her gaze narrowed but unable to avoid the heat of the silently questioning stare that came from not far away.

"I dare say that it was more than adequate, after the amount of time you've had to wait." It was crossing the boundaries a little, but she couldn't resist. "I do hope that you both _enjoyed_ it rather than just liking it."

Even as the blush sank further into her cheeks, Anna looked upwards once she had fastened the buttons upon the garment, meeting Mary's gaze head-on.

"Enjoyable is one of many words I could use," she confessed with a smile that nearly split her face apart, a definite glint in the depths of her irises.

"Anna, I'm shocked," Mary feigned a gasp, "how wayward married life has made you so soon."

The two women shared a laugh, and before she could look for anything more, Anna darted around to do up her skirt. She knew enough if the grin that was surely still gracing Anna's features was anything to go by.

"I'm ever so grateful that you allowed it, m'lady," Anna's voice came from below her shoulder. "It was not what either of us expected at all. It was such a kindness, and really, I don't know what to say. Except thank you, ever so much."

Mary felt slightly uncomfortable in receiving such praise, and yet at the same time she did not feel like it had been enough. Anna had all but saved her from being thrown into torrid scandal, offered such heartfelt comfort in times when she had felt herself defeated by life and the more difficult business of love. This one favour seemed too little by far in comparison for all the unwavering duty she had shown. Yet as she came to face her again with bright eyes and a completely serene manner, it appeared as though it had been enough to equal more than the world had to offer.

"Anna, it's the very least that I could have done. You have been so good to me in all these years, even when it has been the last thing that I have deserved, being so very foolish."

"I wouldn't say you were that, m'lady," Anna offered sweetly.

Mary smiled, knowing she was beyond lucky to have such a very kind and trustworthy maid serving her. Of course, it wouldn't stay that way forever, not now that she was a married woman. She would have her own life to think of; indeed, not just her own.

"I would have liked you here for longer, even if you wouldn't be accompanying me. I'm sure Mrs Hughes and Carson will miss you as well, they value you so highly."

Anna fussed with the neckline of her blouse, shrugging off the compliments.

"Well, I've no intention of leaving just yet, and I don't see that changing soon."

"You may have no say in that now," Mary drily insinuated, imagining Anna's petite frame swelling outwards.

Anna seemed shocked into silence for a moment, before biting back a shy smile. "I suppose it's not impossible," she admitted rather quietly, as if her mistress was suddenly unaware of what had taken place. "But I don't think so, somehow."

"You must hope?" Mary could not imagine Anna without children surrounding her feet, thinking of her and Bates doting on a little brood of their miniature forms.

"Oh, of course, m'lady. Mr Bates and I have discussed it, and should we be so lucky one day we have plans that we would very much like to pursue." A rather breathtaking smile flooded Anna's features as she visited a dream that was clearly dear to and often visited by her. "We have enough to think about getting used to it all now, just by ourselves. Once it's out in the open, it'll be another story again. But for me, and for both of us, it's more than enough. The promise of our own home will keep us going."

Mary could see that Anna was full of memories already made to sustain her, the biggest dream that she had had for so long finally come true.

"Hopefully it won't be too long until you can say."

"Hopefully not, m'lady. I would rather like to be able to wear my wedding ring all the time." Anna smiled another beaming smile while she wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the finger of her left. "We shall see what the future holds."

There was a very small note of trepidation in her tone. In the haze of shared excitement, Mary had quite forgotten about the problems that surrounded Bates. It was clear that Anna had not. After everything that had happened, Mary hated to see a faint shadow corrupt Anna's dearly held happiness, and endeavoured to bring the cheer back to her again.

"It's awfully unfair that a husband and wife should have to be separated after one night," she mused, sitting back down at the dresser as Anna moved towards the door. "You should sneak back up tonight. I can't imagine that Bates will be able to do without you, now he knows what he's been missing, and the same goes for you too."

"M'lady!" Anna exclaimed, a vaguely hopeful sparkle in her eyes betraying her apparent surprise. "Such a thing could never happen."

"I don't see why not," Mary replied teasingly. "Nobody will notice you're gone. I will even keep guard if you want me to."

Anna wrinkled her nose and shook her head, the smile at the idea still remaining on her face.

"No, m'lady. As lovely as it was, it was meant to be a special night, and it was. We can be patient until the next time, when we needn't have to wait again afterwards."

"You're far more patient than I am," Mary smiled, pushing down the sorrow she felt within. She could not say that she was so anxious for her own married life to begin, but the image of Anna so joyful gave her some hope that perhaps she could find some semblance of happiness in her future after all.

"Will there be anything else, m'lady?" Anna stood patiently waiting, her words interrupting Mary's thoughts.

"No, that will be all, thank you Anna." Mary absorbed one last look at her maid by the door, glowing with a contentment that she had once believed she would obtain for herself with Matthew. Still Anna, as always, but now _the secret Mrs Bates, _also. "Go and find Bates, while you can."

Upon hearing the valet's name being spoken, Anna let out a delighted giggle that echoed in the room.

"I'll try, m'lady. But even if I don't, it's not the end of the world. He's always with me."

She patted the left side of her chest before leaving Mary alone, the door clicking shut behind her. Left only with her thoughts once more, Mary had to now learn the task of keeping her own heart under control.

* * *

Later that same day, Mary emerged from her parents' room. The house was still being transformed, preparations for the wedding that had been due to take place being disassembled by ashen-faced members of staff. Eager to avoid the goings-on, and also to avoid Sir Richard, she had spent much of the morning keeping her mother company. She was still too weak to be able to talk for very long, and for that Mary was both guilty and glad. The last thing she needed was more worries filling her head, fighting as she was to pen the ones that already existed there.

She was in the thick of these troubles as she descended the staircase in a perfunctory manner, the bleakness of her own world meeting with the sorrow that swirled in the air throughout the house, proving quite suffocating indeed. As she reached the top of the second flight, she saw a few servants milling around in the hall below. Their movements passed her by largely, until she noticed two figures that were separated from the rest. The sunlight that crowned the house made Anna's golden hair shine brilliantly, and even from this distance, the private elation of the couple radiated. A glimmer of hope amidst so much tragedy.

Even though what they were saying to one another was silenced to her, Mary did not need to guess that every word was sweeter than the last. She caught sight of Anna's smiling face as she made to turn back in the direction of the servants' hall, her countenance utterly striking. Bates touched her arm lightly, a brief and delicate brush, his fingers slipping down to kiss Anna's palm in a gesture that spoke of longing and eternal promise, and love above all. It was so very simple but obviously charged with significant meaning to the pair; Anna could be seen reciprocating with her own small hand that had disappeared in the circle of her husband's while she gazed at him once more, unaware of anything or anyone else but him. Nobody was there to see it, aside from a pair of enrapt and newly enlivened brown eyes.

It suddenly struck Mary how intrusive she was being and she retraced her steps, not without stealing one final look below. It was hard not to be drawn in by how much pure happiness existed between the two, clearer than day to see. How regretful that it had not been consolidated sooner, though it did not seem to matter much now, least of all to the newly wed pair.

In that moment, Mary realised something. That there were many odds in life to be overcome, all quite different for each person who was confronted, but when such love existed in the universe it seemed hard to imagine that they could not be beaten somehow.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I've been so happy with the response to this little story. This is the last part, I probably could have gone on with the theme if I'd thought about it long enough, but my inspiration has come to an end, and I feel right ending things on a rather fluffy note :) **

**Would love to hear your thoughts, if you'd be so kind.**

* * *

Their little kitchen was quiet and peaceful as day began to turn once more to night, the only sound that could be heard the gurgle of water draining away down the sink. Anna washed and dried her plate and cutlery quickly, falling into a rhythm, humming to herself for some kind of company. She had not taken too long to eat; she seemed to take less time consuming her meal with each evening that passed. It was not that she was especially ravenous – indeed, her appetite was only just returning having been soundly quashed of late. Rather, it was that without John downstairs sitting at the table with her she had no reasons to delay.

Before they had become unsettled for her, their mealtimes were one of her favourite parts of the day. Even since she had had to get up from her seat several times throughout, they remained so. Breakfast was usually a hurried affair, if they did not decide the time would be better spent taking it at the house instead, but the moments they did have to themselves first thing of a morning were savoured by both of them. Being the earlier riser and the one who had the more favourable temperament at that hour of the day, John would see to the preparations, usually bringing the tea and toast to the table by the time Anna had slumped herself into her chair, yawning away the last of her precious sleep. The aroma of the blend would enliven her senses as he poured, and her tired eyes soothed and softened when she took a glance upwards into her husband's face, a few faint lines on his face accompanied by fading marks that the edge of the pillow had left there. As he sat across from her his hand stayed reached across the table, cocooning around hers, slipping for brief moments when he had to take his nourishment but always returning, stroking her skin and bringing her to life.

Luncheon passed up at the big house, unless they were lucky enough to have their half day together, which Mrs Hughes's schedule conveniently arranged. But supper was the time that was truly theirs, when they were both able to relax and enjoy each other's company in their own home knowing that another day of work was behind them. Anna's shoes would be kicked off beneath the table and eventually they would sidle up into John's lap, her almost reclining in the seat that wasn't really made for it. She would flash him the smallest smile, completely coy in its nature, and not needing any further persuasion, he would take her dainty feet into his palms, tenderly massaging one and then the other in equal measure and attention, seeming to relish delivering the action just as much as she did receiving it, careful fingertips pressing firm and then softly against her instep.

After too long Anna would ensure that she reciprocated, rising to stand behind her husband, her figure taller than his for once as he remained in his chair. She admired the sturdy broadness of his back and shoulders before gliding her fingers over, gradually rubbing and easing the knots that had accumulated from hours of hard work out of his neck. It was such simple but hugely significant acts of love and affection that had grown from mere seconds and sustained them for quite some time in the more difficult periods they had endured, and they both still liked to make sure the routine persisted. The minutes faded into hours with little awareness. Anna always succeeded in her venture to make them stay up just that bit longer, despite knowing John would be right when he endeavoured to suggest that she wouldn't be thankful for it when the morning dawned. She smiled, saying she would deal with that when the hour came. Stretching her body and then her hand to land upon the tabletop covering his own as best she could, it was the sign that the day was coming to an end, though they ran in circles that had been rediscovered once more. The circle of their joined hands remained as they fell side by side into their bed, hardly being broken throughout the night.

Standing still as she was lost in her thoughts, Anna hugged her hands over the tops of her arms. Sleeping alone this past week had felt strange and been far too familiar in her mind to months that had passed long ago now. Then it had been all down to her, with John acquiescing to her requests without question. Now it was him, and she found that she hadn't been so readily accepting, yearning for the warmth and safety that his body provided. She wondered whether he knew the extent to which his presence gave her comfort and simply the ability to slumber soundly, a touch upon his shoulder even as he was turned away from her making the unpleasant dreams ebb away and the happier ones intensify. Even if he argued with her case, which he no doubt would, she was insistent tonight was the night that she would be back at his side for all of the seconds, minutes and hours until the light of dawn arrived.

With the thought spurring her on, she arranged the contents of the tray happily, setting each item down with a swelling sense of pride in her heart. A few slices of bread with a pat of butter on a separate plate so he could apply as much or as little as he desired, some of the cold meat of which there was plenty in the larder. Instead of a cup of tea, there was some hot water with the jar of honey and spoon nestled at its side, and she added a little jam and biscuits on a smaller saucer in case he might fancy something sweeter for afterwards. Her eyes widened slightly when she took in just how much she had prepared; she hoped that her arms would be able to carry it all, having terrible visions of the whole feast slipping from her grasp and coming crashing down upon the stairs, making quite a mess. Then she considered the never-ending amount of stairs that led up from the hall and kitchen to the servants' sleeping quarters, and how John – in the days when he was still firmly _Mr Bates_ to her – must have struggled up them against the odds, hands full with the thoughtful gesture he had taken time to make as she had been struck down with illness.

The image remained imprinted on her mind to this day, presented to her as if she were reliving the moment for the first time; the tray with all of its thoughtful contents, the beautiful flowers in the little vase, the strong but definitely elegant hands that held it out towards her, the dashing figure and smiling face that showed no signs of trouble as he looked long at her, a tiny breath escaping him before he pursed his lips once more. She had thought it must have been an unconcealed expression of his obvious exertion, anyone else would not have hesitated to say so. And yet it only emerged at the very moment when her heavy eyes had lifted to meet his bright ones. She recalled the sensation of her cheeks reddening further past being a mere sign of ailment as she stared up at him, taking the tray from his grasp. Her heart beating wildly within the confines of her chest. It had been a good job she had not fallen to sleep, though her eyes had been close to closing while she cradled the book in her hands. She imagined him standing outside the door all night, not quite getting into trouble but certainly drawing some kind of suspicion. As she lay back down in bed, balancing the tray carefully over her knees, admiring the small blooms and beginning to tear off bites of the food he had kindly offered, she chased the notion away, thinking that she was being awfully silly. Of course he wouldn't have waited the whole night for her to appear, even despite her greatest hopes that would be precisely what he would do. But then, she certainly hadn't expected this. Perhaps she couldn't guess at Mr Bates at all. Laying down to sleep later, she didn't try to cease the dreams that came of him stepping softly through the prised open door and forbidden threshold, finding his way with little effort to her room.

In all the time that she had known him, over twelve years now, he had rarely been ill. There had been occasions when some virus had swept like wildfire throughout the servants' hall and it was almost impossible to be immune, but she hadn't known him to suffer too much. A few sniffles and a cough that lasted for a little time was all that afflicted him, and they weren't enough to interrupt his duties, even if she did cast concerned looks in his direction all the while. He would reply with a reassuring gaze and half smile, promising to her to take a few more short breaks than normal before resuming work once more. His leg was what really troubled him, though he still didn't like to admit when it caused him the most pain, even long after they were first married. In recent months, it had got worse. He would grit his teeth on the mornings when it ached more than ever, carefully composing his expression so that the agony wouldn't show through. She was never fooled, feeling the gnawing dull throb as though it was directly affecting her with every step she took, being wounded further by the insistence of his pride.

_"Your burdens are my burdens too,"_ she reminded him of the words he had spoken to her, the words she had been so grateful for when she had been at the edge of her existence, and with them she was able to make him lie with his leg propped on the sofa, doing the best she could to lessen the ways in which he hurt. "_Let me ease them for you."_

But no, he had never been affected like this. Anna smiled to herself as she thought about how her mother would have approved of his ability to remain on his feet even while suffering with sickness. She frowned in the next instant when she considered that her mother would likely have found much to disapprove of in her choice of husband. Often she thought of how it may have been if she had remained surviving, being no doubt sent frantic with worry and an overwhelming desire to please when she chose to drop by the cottage unannounced, John attempting to calm her down with soothing tones as he hovered at her back. Her mother would have picked at the way she had chosen to arrange the sitting room and the cups she used for the tea. She could almost see the slightly aggrieved smile that she would have used regarding John and his cane, and Anna coloured for the shame of it. But left alone to look on, the expression would soon change. If her mother was one thing, it was observant, and she professed to be an expert at knowing love when she saw it. She was also reminded that her mother was the one who told her, amongst many other wise sayings, that no matter how much you may have wanted to you couldn't choose who you fell in love with.

Anna would never have wanted to, or even imagined that she could have ever chosen differently.

The door to their bedroom had been left ajar, Anna exhaling a grateful sigh when it came into her view. She stopped just short, adjusting the weight in her arms. They ached slightly but the strain was nothing to her, not considering who all the effort had been for. She used the toe of her stocking feet to push the door fully open, the anticipation of his reaction and the excitement she still felt at simply getting a glimpse of him flying up through her.

John was sitting up in bed, pillows propping his head as he scanned the pages of a well-worn volume. At his bedside was a glass that had been drained of water, a neat arrangement of handkerchiefs that corresponded to his slippers laying askew in their alignment on the floor, his cane rested against the wall. Though he was past the worst now and had been much better in the last couple of days, the telltale signs that said he wasn't completely back to his full capacity remained. His nose was burnished with a fierce redness, likely aggravated by the amount of time he had spent blowing it, and his eyes were puffy and dark owing to the amount of sleep he had lost. Letting out a rasping burst of a cough, he looked up to discover her smiling towards him, shining with pride of all that was laden before her. The long-cherished favour finally returned like for like, and with just as much love as there had been then, if not more now.

After a moment of recognition, Anna walked quickly over to the bed, placing down the tray to prevent John from getting up. He furrowed his brow in a frown at her, though it wasn't long before he relented underneath her soft eyes.

"And how is the patient today?" she asked with a little teasing.

"Fed up of lying here, being useless," he grumbled in reply.

In the other sense of the word, he was anything but. Anna was aware of his frustration, knowing he'd much rather be up and about, putting himself to use about the cottage and taking care of the little jobs that needed doing if he couldn't be back at the Abbey quite yet. She told him that he'd be restored much quicker if he took notice of Doctor Clarkson's recommendations for a week's worth of bed rest. When he complained that it didn't seem to be doing much good she chided him gently, saying that she'd rather have her husband in better working order for longer, no matter how much time it took. He'd grinned rather mischievously at that, sighing his assent only a little reluctantly. Anna was deeply pleased to notice the twinkle put back into his eyes.

"You're being put to the best use you can be here, _resting_," she placed emphasis on her last word particularly, smoothing the covers upon the bed as she perched herself aside him. "And you'll be back to it soon enough, toiling from dawn to dusk. You should take full advantage of it. If it was me, I certainly would."

She had expected the flare of worry to come into his gaze when she had said that, and sure enough it did. However, it was also accompanied by a warm smile that sent her heart soaring.

"I'm quite sure that my recovery would be aided if you were here throughout the day."

Anna smiled somewhat sadly at the anxious tone that was lying beneath his words. Of course there was no time more enjoyable for the two of them than when they were able to be unreservedly in each other's company, but that wasn't all of it. John still fretted over her going up to the house alone, old regrets coming back to consume him when he couldn't be at her side or at the very least in the same close vicinity as her. He was much more concerned about her wellbeing than his own, and in turn she was bothered that such persistent worrying would delay his recovery. _Not that it would be likely to stop any time soon_, she considered with a giddy smile to herself. She took enough time to reassure him that she was quite fine. Much had been restored and they had both learned a lot, from themselves and one another as they got through it together. She had gradually come to look at herself with less critical eyes and asked John to view her the way she was now, not the memory of her that they once remembered nor the shadow she had once been. Feelings and thoughts lingered, as neither pretended they wouldn't, but things were getting better every day. Life was full of hope once again. She hesitated to say _better_, as it always was when he had been in hers, when she had let him be part of it fully again.

"Mr Bates, I must remind you that I have duties that lie elsewhere," she said with brightness in her voice, the true kind that came out naturally whenever he looked upon her so affectionately. "But I'm here now, and I can see to the most important job that I have."

John tutted quietly though his smile remained. He was a great deal more modern thinking than most men, and certainly didn't buy into the idea that it was a wife's primary role in life to attend to all of her husband's wishes. Their relationship was built on an equal foundation of love and respect, and it was something they both dearly valued. Yet Anna reasoned that if he could coddle and pamper her so attentively, it was only fair that she should be allowed to do the same in return.

She shifted a little on the bed to present the tray to him once more, and both looked down at it, Anna beaming with the results of her efforts. On the other hand while John was extremely grateful, his expression also displayed his trepidation, features curving and crinkling as he hesitated in getting started.

"Anna, you shouldn't have gone to such trouble," he began, surveying the contents piled up before him. "Half of this would have sufficed."

"Nonsense. If I'm going to do something, I'll do it properly," she replied proudly, giving a little toss of her head that made them both chuckle. "You've eaten only scraps for days. I have to have you hardy and strong and not wasting away."

At that moment she had worried that perhaps she had gone overboard, and didn't want to seem as though she was pushing him if he simply wasn't up to it. However the series of low grumbles that emerged from beneath the covers told her otherwise, and she stifled a fond giggle as she watched him start to tuck in with her encouragement, handing him the butter that was just out of his reach and smiling when she considered how instinctive such a small act had become.

The clouds hadn't been completely lifted, and Anna felt the well-known heat of his gaze upon her.

"Still, you must have struggled to carry all of this," he said after swallowing a mouthful of bread. "You know that you have to start taking it easier now."

She had to refrain from rolling her eyes at him, though it would have been done lovingly. It was in his nature to be cautious, just as it was in her nature to prove that she was able to do exactly what she was capable of. All of his fussing over her was done out of the greatest love, and she could not help but feel heartened, lucky to have such unconditional devotion showered upon her.

"Mrs Hughes has given you earlier finishes for a good reason, not just to hurry home and play nurse."

There was more than a little regret laced in his voice, and her heart grew heavy, knowing he wasn't just referring to his current condition. Her resolve remained strong and her belief as sure as it had ever been; that whatever troubles came their way, they would face them together. Nothing in life could deter them; God knows she was unwilling to let it, especially after so much.

"I can manage," she said defiantly, raising a smirk from him where he lay, head rested back on the pillow. She smiled softly in return, blue eyes bearing into the captivating, almost indescribable colour of his own. "Besides, I very much like looking after you. I don't think I get to do it often enough."

And she felt that that was true. He seemed to be deep in thought attempting to formulate a response to tell her otherwise, but instead he decided that the wiser and actually the right course was to say nothing. He couldn't very well deny her when she was so vibrant and happy, rejoicing in the beautiful smile that graced her features and still feeling astounded that he should be the cause of it. The smile on his own face grew considerably when his eyes rested upon the single flower that sat in the small blue vase that was placed to the side of the tray. She must have known that daffodils always reminded him of her, as delicate and undeniably sunny as they were. Always ready and waiting to emerge stronger after the harshest and hardest of times. They had weathered the dark storm and now the rays of sunshine were breaking through for longer spells than before, making them feel secure and contented. Anna suited the better weather that the spring days brought, her fair countenance conveying it perfectly, everything about her glowing.

She had arose from where she sat beside him, now standing and adjusting the pillows at his head, making sure he was as comfortable as he could possibly be. Her fingers had drifted up from the cotton coverings to land upon his temple, and he held in a breath as she stroked his skin softly while looking reverently into his eyes, her own breathing similarly suspended for a few moments. The way she caressed him while studying his features so closely was as though she was remembering him all over again, more fragments and happy memories coming back to her each time she did so. Even now, when so much had been rediscovered, he always let her touch him first, and she had been deeply grateful for it. After enough time had passed, he slowly slid his hand down to lightly and tenderly cup her waist, the tips of his fingers almost like apparitions, his gaze watching hers. Anna smiled serenely, moulding herself more firmly and consciously into his palm.

Having already put out the lamps downstairs before coming up, Anna decided she would get ready for bed herself. When John had finished a sizeable portion of the food and pushed the plates across the tray to signal that he was full, she set it down on top of the cabinet, thinking that there would be time enough to clear it up properly in the morning. For now, she simply wanted to spend all the time that she could with her husband, having missed him over these few days.

They talked as she began to undress out of her black uniform, John enquiring about how all was running up at the Abbey. She replied that everything seemed to be going quite smoothly, Thomas was crowing about getting to stand in as valet again but at least it meant that he left Miss Baxter alone. Lord Grantham had been asking after him and sending her his good wishes to pass on, as well as unrestricted access to the library to absolve the certain boredom that John must have been experiencing. They shared a laugh as they recalled the last time his Lordship told him to 'stay in bed and read books'; at least this time he had stuck to the promise. Anna stayed frozen for a few moments, enamoured by John's smile that reached up to his eyes and sent the crinkles that she loved so much forming at their edges.

Remembering herself from amidst a happy daze, she came back around to the side of the bed, asking John if he could help to unlace her corset. Sitting himself up, he began to undo the loops and hooks with practised ease.

"You'll need to stop wearing these soon enough," he huffed, Anna letting out a sigh herself as her body slackened from the loss of the tight restraint of the garment around her. "I'm quite sure that Lady Mary doesn't mind. In fact, she probably advises it."

"There'll come a day when I have no choice, so I'll make the most of it while I can," she replied, apparently put out by the thought, quite unlike many others who would welcome the change. "Afterwards I probably won't even be able to get them to go near me. Take a look at your wife's slim figure before it disappears completely."

John shook his head though she couldn't see it, bending to place a feather-light kiss on her bare shoulder. Anna turned, smiling at the feel of his lips upon her skin, tingles running delightfully through her as her hands clamped softly upon the bed.

"You will always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me," he whispered, his voice nearly cracking with emotion. "More beautiful now than ever before."

Her cheeks blushed a light shade of pink, the tips of her ears turning red at the compliments her husband bestowed upon her and the sheer amount of joy she felt in this moment. Once, she had wondered whether she would ever know it again. Here and now, feeling relaxed and filled with excitement for what was to come, she took nothing for granted.

Taking the loosened corset from herself and lifting her chemise, she took a few moments to stare at her form, almost completely bare in the privacy and shelter of their bedroom. Nature was a thing to be in awe of. Her two hands rested instinctively on her stomach, the skin there warm and already softening. At a little over four months along, she still wasn't showing in her various lady's maid clothes, the current fashion of the blouses and dresses more flowing and accommodating to her figure. However, when she undressed each night and got ready to dress once more in the morning she could see that the swell was increasing, little by little. It was quite amazing to her, how much her body was already changing for the best reason that could ever exist; to hold their much longed-for child within it.

She slipped her nightgown over her head, holding the fabric momentarily in a certain way so that it fitted snugly to her small but noticeable bump. Her gaze lifted and met with John's, who was similarly fascinated. In the depths of his irises, she could trace a few tears. It could have still been the effects of the cold, but they both knew otherwise, and even through her wide and beaming smile the emotion began to gather with her too.

Putting her hair swiftly into a braid, Anna gathered the pins that were in her palm into a pile on the bedside table. It was only then that she was reminded of the jar that she had picked up from the village chemist earlier that day, prescribed after her visit to Doctor Clarkson. As she lifted it into her dainty fingers, John eyed the object curiously.

"It's a decongestant," she responded to her husband's inquisitive gaze. "It's supposed to be applied before you go to bed. It'll help you get some sleep."

He looked rather doubtful, watching her every tiny movement as she got onto her feet again.

"I thought you were going to the doctor for yourself," he replied while she unscrewed the lid from the jar, the strong smell permeating the room.

"There was no harm in asking. Doctor Clarkson had quite enough time for the both of us."

"And is everything okay? With the baby? And with you, of course. Though I hardly need to ask, you should know that you are the primary concern…"

He was starting to babble now, a sure sign that he was getting agitated. Anna simply smiled away his fears, patting her stomach gently before bringing his palm to rest there.

"Everything is just as it should be," she assured with a kind of intuition that was already coming naturally to her, coupled with the affirmations she had received from Doctor Clarkson when he had checked her over. "Doctor Clarkson said that it's quite normal for some sickness to persist for a little while yet, but you know it's been lessening just lately anyway." She wondered briefly whether she should divulge the next bit of information, knowing too well how it would make him react. "He said that I should rest a little more, not spend so many hours on my feet. But you already know that Mrs Hughes is seeing to that."

She gave a little sigh, hoping that all would run smoothly enough to allow her to stay on for a little while longer. Her work made her happy and fulfilled and she would always treasure her time spent at Downton; it had instilled so many of her values within her, gave her so many wonderful friends that were as good as family, and of course the man who was the love of her life. But it was also getting easier to picture herself at home, rocking their baby to sleep in her arms while John wrapped his around her waist.

He relaxed a little with her words, unfolding his arms from his chest to allow her to unfasten a couple of buttons on his pyjama shirt. Anna felt him contract slightly when her fingers came into contact with his bare skin; he was more sensitive and ticklish than she often gave credit for. She began to smother the mixture liberally onto his upper chest, giggling as it was impossible for it to avoid becoming matted in the hair there. He let her fingers linger upon him after the job had been done, watching her eyes flutter softly and her lips curve upwards. It had been a comforting gesture to her to stroke the hair that poked free from the shirt in the days when they had begun to lay together again, so many months passed from that first tentative time now. It was still something she did whenever she felt suddenly startled and frantic, but in this moment she was calmer than she had been in a long time.

"There you go," she uttered in a small voice that could almost not be discerned in the peaceful silence of the room, lifting herself from the edge of the bed again, already yearning from the loss of him beneath her hands.

"That smell shall stick to me for months."

"It could be worse," Anna chuckled lightly as her husband did the same. "Is there anything else you'll be wanting, m'lord?"

He smiled at her term of address, his eyes growing increasingly drowsy as he looked upon her.

"No thank you, m'lady. I believe that I am very well taken care of."

She gave him a loving smile, watching him until the very last second before she padded to the bathroom to rinse her hands. When she came back, John had sat himself up a little further, expecting nothing more than a chaste kiss goodnight. She was still revelling from the soft press of his lips against hers, the sensation always so wonderful to her, as she rounded the bed and started to pull back the sheets that concealed her side that had been left empty.

Anna couldn't help but be amused by the expression on John's face, a mixture of horror and disbelief with his longing buried somewhere beneath.

"Anna! You can't," he exclaimed, half-heartedly attempting to wrest the covers out of her grasp. "I won't put you and the baby at risk."

Her husband could be an awfully silly beggar at times, but he was her silly beggar, and she loved him so much for it.

"You're almost completely better now. I think you underestimate how strong my immune system is. Plus, the baby is very safe where they are." She cradled her palm over the slight roundness, patting it with a certainty that made John smile once more. "I don't have to stay the whole night if it would make you feel easier, just for a little while."

The look set in his eyes told her that he wasn't willing to deny her request, having missed her just as much. He unfurled the covers, offering his hand to allow her to clamber in. Though her bump hardly got in the way of hampering her movements at the moment, she took full advantage of the opportunity, his skin faintly clammy but his touch still possessing all of its wondrous qualities, sending thrills and a sense of serenity settling within her.

Straightaway they rediscovered what they had both been longing for, Anna sighing happily as she nestled against John's side, his warmth instantly radiating through to her. Her arm lay over his middle, clinging onto him as he turned his head away to rid himself of a couple more short coughs. When all was fine again he resumed his natural position and she was able to pillow her head at his shoulder, turning in slightly to ensure she was even more comfortable. As she did so she fit herself more snugly, her stomach moulding to him. There was no space left, only the proof of their love enshrouded and safe between their bodies, sharing in everything that they had and already so adored.

Both luxuriated in the happiness that the thought of their unborn child provided, as well as the simple pleasure of being able to rest together, something so precious to them. Anna reached out to the bedside without having to break their bond, taking the already read letter into her hands again.

"It's from Gwen," she filled in her husband on the article after he had dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, moving her arm to rest upon him again. "It came just this afternoon."

"It's good that she keeps in touch so often," John murmured, glad that the dear friends were able to keep their correspondence. "How is she getting on?"

Anna grinned to herself, a few words jumping out at her above all the others written on the page. "She's very well, and Harry is too. They've found out some happy news." She lifted her head from John's chest, blue eyes wide and sparkling as she looked up at him. "They're expecting a baby, too."

"That's marvellous," John smiled, his hand instinctively reaching down to land protectively upon her bump.

She smiled to feel the tips of his fingers through the fabric of her nightgown, knowing that the baby was already aware of their father's loving presence. Thinking back to all those years ago when she and Gwen were housemaids sharing a room up at the Abbey, talking and giggling and confiding in one another as day changed to night, they never could have believed then that they would find themselves happily married and pregnant at the same time in their futures. Of course, it had taken longer for her and John to fall, but it had finally happened after so much dreaming and it seemed to be just the right time, another sign of hope when it hadn't quite been expected. Their baby, and their miracle.

Another memory of almost another life came to her, and she felt warm with a pleasant nostalgia as she recollected it with a rush.

"Do you remember," she began, eyes still pinned upon her husband, "it was Gwen covering for me that allowed us to have that afternoon in Thirsk." His contemplative smile enlivened her memories as they came to life within her again. "Our first date," she added, somewhat shyly, and it charmed John immensely.

"So it was," his words lengthened, his hand stroking gently at her shoulder. "I could hardly forget about that. I remember every second as if it were yesterday."

She blushed a little, thinking of how giddy she had been at the prospect at the time, though they hadn't termed it a date officially then. Whenever they had the chance and John took it upon himself to treat or surprise her with an afternoon out, she still experienced the same feeling. Somehow it was even sweeter now.

"And yet you never told me that you loved me until so long after," she teased at him, her fingers dancing a line along the buttons of his pyjama shirt. "You didn't kiss me, and it took me all my time to persuade you to hold my hand for so much as a minute."

He chuckled as she pretended to be offended, seeing her face light up seconds after.

"And how foolish I was," he responded, a familiar heat beginning to charge around them. "But we got there in the end."

Anna was assured by that, thinking of how true it was. A happy ending that was delayed for much longer than it should have been, though she had never doubted that it would come to be. Now there were never endings, only new beginnings that made her so grateful and sure of all that lay ahead for them.

"I owe a lot to Gwen for doing that."

His voice interrupted her thoughts gladly, finding him smiling down at her. He smiled at her differently than he did for anyone else, and she loved the way it made him look, though she loved him however.

There were a few moments of pause, the sound of soft evening rain pattering against the window.

"I owe everything to you," he said quietly, his voice rich with emotion.

Anna held in a breath, overwhelmed by the simple statement and feeling very much the same. Anything that she was able to do was never enough to repay him for the joy he had given her, in small moments before they were married and bigger gestures after; for all the unwavering support and strength he had provided which had ensured that she was able to make it through, not completely unscathed but whole with love once more. As she let the same breath out, she knew that she never needed to do anything grand to show how much she cared for him, just to simply stay by his side and offer the same love and devotion in return. That was easy enough to see happen, considering it was apparent in every look they shared, touch that was welcomed and kiss that joined them together anew.

"And what would I do with that?" she returned, playfulness in her tone and a twinkle in her eyes as she drank his gaze in. "This is quite enough for now."

At once, she lay her own hand over where his had returned to the neat swell of her stomach.

"In fact, I can safely say that this is all I have ever wanted."

It wasn't a lie. They still had their hopes and dreams which wouldn't be let go, the money from the sale of his mother's house safely stored away, the long process that had started some time back finally completed just a couple of months ago. One day it would allow them to purchase a small hotel, somewhere on the coast perhaps where they could make the most of the relaxing sea air and additional time to themselves. Somewhere picturesque and safe where their children would be able to play happily. But for now they had their home, which they were still so proud of, and that they would fill with more love in the coming months with the arrival of their first born.

She lifted herself effortlessly, John's arm guiding her to him when he was aware of her intentions towards his lips. This time their kiss was longer and deeper, John's hand cupping her face delicately. She sighed a little into it in delight, and then stifled the beginnings of a grin as she heard and felt him sniffling beneath her.

His eyes looked a great deal brighter when he opened them once more.

"You know," he told her, thumb stroking across her cheek, "I'm feeling much better already."


End file.
